


Akaan

by ChopsHitch



Series: House of Memories [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Blow Jobs, Character Death, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Din Djarin has issues, I don't know why I write all the angst, I just keep hurting them, I'm Sorry, Jealous Din Djarin, Jealous Paz Vizsla, M/M, Major Character Injury, Nightmares, Porn With Plot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Paz Vizsla, Rimming, War, Young Din Djarin, Young Paz Vizsla
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:34:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28391751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChopsHitch/pseuds/ChopsHitch
Summary: He flicked his tongue over his lip and remembered that he’d bitten into it when he first woke up, split the skin that was there and was bleeding. It meant he was alive, he was here with Paz and he was awake, the dream was not real, this moment was. He untangled his fingers from the sheets slowly, breathing slowly but surely, his breath not coming out as panicked as it had been when he had first woken.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Paz Vizsla, Din Djarin/Paz Vizsla
Series: House of Memories [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2059317
Comments: 41
Kudos: 92





	1. Vercopa (Dream)

**Author's Note:**

> Akaan means war in Mando'a, so hopefully you can see where this fic will take us and how it lines up to the current time line in the show. 
> 
> I'm so sorry I'm so angsty, especially with these two but I just can't help it, I swear I will write cute fluffy stuff once this series is out of the way.

_Grey eyes. Braided hair. Kind smiles. Calloused fingers. Whispered words._

Din sighed, fists clenching and unclenching. Paz’s lips were on his shoulder, his hands resting on his hips. They had come a long way for Paz to be able to touch him like this, in these moments where his dreams clouded his reality. He wished he could relax under the touch, wished that he didn’t feel his fingers twitching for the knife he kept strapped to his thigh. To his _security blanket_ , as Paz called it, chuckling even when the blade was pressed against his pulse point. Laughed at him, not unkindly, when the knife was lowered slowly, and Din blinked to remember that this was _Paz_ and Paz was not his enemy. When he blinked to remember that Paz was _his_ and Paz was _safe_. Paz would always be safe.

His body was still tense.

_Sheets tangled in his legs. Sweat on his brow. Fingers digging into hips_. **_I love you._**

He had been thrown out of a nightmare, could still feel the blood on his hands and the blaster fire in his ears, could still see the ghosts of droids on a battlefield. The droids had rained from the sky, and people’s bodies fell around him; he ran. He screamed and he shouted but all that was heard was blaster fire. He fell and he was in the bunker, and he was scared and frightened and he held the knife like it would safe him, his grip too tight, he _knew_ it was too tight, but he was panicked, and the droids were still falling from the sky. The bunker opened and his parent’s bodies fell on top of him.

He screamed.

A hand reached out and he grabbed it, it was Nurink, it was his buir and it was familiar, he let himself get pulled up. Nurink was saying something over the blaster noise, but Din couldn’t hear him. He felt so far away. Nurink dropped to the floor, his beskar broken. Din looked around and still the droids were falling, and he wanted to run but he couldn’t because he saw _Paz_ , shooting at them all, and then Paz fell too, and Din was lost. He screamed and it seemed to go on forever.

He’d shot up, sweating, and screaming. The sound raw and broken and he bit his lip to just make it stop. Wanted it to stop before Paz woke up, so that he could get the rest he needed because he was stupid if he didn’t think Din didn’t notice the tiredness in his eyes, the bags that had started to form because Din kept screaming when he woke up. They’d both be lying if they said the nightmares hadn’t been getting progressively worse.

Paz woke up anyway, blindly feeling for Din, his hands resting on Din’s hips lightly and his lips touching wherever they could reach.

_Paz’s helm. Din’s pauldron. His knife._

He sighed and unclenched his fist again. Paz kissed his shoulder again, wanting to pull him closer, Din knew, could feel the restraint in his fingertips, could feel the tension as he literally held Din at arm’s length. The knife was by the bed, easily reachable but far enough away for Paz to be warned if he tried to grab it, as he had done many times in the past when he woke like this. He could feel his body start to relax, his fingers felt less twitchy and he could feel his heartbeat start to slow. 

He wanted to know whether there would come a day where this wouldn’t happen. Where he wouldn’t have to feel so broken and exposed when he woke up like this. Wished for more days where he woke up draped over Paz, kissing his throat, and smiling just because they could. Paz didn’t deserve this, didn’t need to be dragged through Din’s trauma and drowned under the weight of being strong enough for both of them.

_Fingers tangled into sheets. Paz’s fingers on his hips._

It was a dream, he reminded himself, only a dream. A voice deep inside him reminded him it was a nightmare.

Paz was here, he could feel him beside him even without the contact on his skin. Paz was _alive_. He let out a shaky breath slowly and then inhaled again. Paz remained silent behind him, squeezing his hips gently but leaving Din where he was, waited until he was spoken to before he dared take Din into his arms and try and soothe him. Din was eternally grateful that Paz understood him in moments like this, where his mind wasn’t working right, and he could have been seconds away from a panic attack and had the patience to wait it out. 

He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

_Blood in his mouth._

He flicked his tongue over his lip and remembered that he’d bitten into it when he first woke up, split the skin that was there and was bleeding. It meant he was alive, he was here with Paz and he was awake, the dream was not real, this moment was. He untangled his fingers from the sheets slowly, breathing slowly but surely, his breath not coming out as panicked as it had been when he had first woken.

Remembered that he’d bitten his lip to stop himself from crying out, on a deeply subconscious level, to not wake up Paz, trying to spare him from this ritual they had developed because he didn’t need it. Din did. He forced his body to relax; Paz didn’t mind being woken, he had said so repeatedly, preferring to be awake to make sure Din didn’t do something stupid and reckless; his eyes dropped to his wrists.

_Scarred wrists. Scarred faced. Grey eyes. Kind smiles._ _Twisted sheets._

He let out another loud breath. “I think it’s okay,” He forced himself to whisper, to give Paz the permission he so desperately needed to pull him closer, which he did without hesitation, planting kisses anywhere he could reach, his shoulder, his temple, his throat. His body was still on edge, paranoia lingering around him like a cloud, but the dream was slowly being forgotten; each body falling being replaced by a chaste kiss on his skin. He closed his eyes and rested his head against Paz’s broad shoulder. His heart was still racing but it was still slower than it had been when he awoke. His dug his fingers into Paz’s thighs hard enough to bruise. 

He wanted to be ashamed of how much he _needed_ Paz, _relied_ on him in moments like this but then Paz’s fingers were in his hair and he closed his eyes.

_Cracked wall. Scattered armour. Dusty mirror._ **_I love you_ ** _._

“It’s okay, cyare, it’s okay, it was just a dream, it wasn’t real,” Paz soothed, his fingers running over Din’s body, as if checking for wounds that weren’t really there. All he would feel were healed scars and maybe, _maybe_ faint cracks if he felt hard enough for them. Din nodded against his shoulder, letting his words wash over him, letting them clean away the feeling of utter _hopelessness_ he had been left with. His heart was slowing, his breathing normal. 

“You were dead.” He whispered, forcing himself to talk, to try and make sense of it all. Paz hummed from behind him and wrapped his arms tightly around his waist. “Everyone was dead.” 

_Din’s helm. Paz’s vambrace. His knife._

The unnerving feeling was still resting on the surface of his skin, the feeling that inevitably something was going to go wrong but he tried to ignore it, tried to listen for Paz’s breathing over his own. 

“I’m here, Din’ika,” Paz murmured into his hair. Din nodded again, feeling Paz’s skin beneath his. Relishing the fact that he was allowed this, was allowed to have Paz when everything else had been taken. He released his grip from Paz’s thigh, feeling slightly guilty that he’d probably bruised the flesh there, when Paz treated his own skin as if it were made of porcelain. Paz never seemed to mind the marks that Din left on his skin, instead seemed to treat them as medals of honour.

“You’re here,” he repeated, as he turned and sat himself into Paz’s lap, facing his lover. His fingers reached out for Paz’s face, cupping it first and then tracing his features, tracing the scar that showed Din on Paz’s skin. He kissed it lightly, always apologising for marring his perfect, beautiful features. Paz smiled at him, his hand reaching up and wrapping around his wrist, brushing over his scars. 

“It was a dream, you’re _safe_ , you’re with _me_.” Paz said, as they rested their foreheads together and Din closed his eyes. He slowly wrapped his arms around Paz’s shoulders and pulled himself closer to Paz’s body, burying his head into Paz’s strong chest. Paz felt tears fall into his chest. 

“It felt real - it _was_ real, Paz,” he murmured, as he blinked his eyes to stop the tears. He didn’t like letting himself be this vulnerable, to be this weak but Paz was holding him, and it was just them, and Paz held him tighter. Kissed his head, making silent promises to him that Din knew he would forever intend to keep. 

_Fingers gripped into Paz’s shoulders. Paz’s lips on his throat._

He wasn’t sure how long they remained in their embrace, wasn’t sure when he had switched to his native language when whispering things to Paz; slowly he raised his head from Paz’s chest and looked up and smiled weakly at him. Paz’s hand came up to his face as he pushed wild brown hair out of his face, stoking his cheek and wiping away any remaining tears. 

Din didn’t know what he had done to deserve such unconditional love, but he knew not to question it, just to let it flow over him and appreciate it while he had it. He knew deep in his heart that this couldn’t last forever but let himself love Paz anyway because it was all Paz deserved and more. He kissed him gently, showing him that he was okay, he was grounded, and his mind was clear. 

Paz kissed him back slow and steady, like an anchor against a rough sea, his hands finding themselves at Din’s hips and Din’s hands resting on the back of his neck. Paz was here, Din told himself and the last remnants of his dream finally succumbing to Paz’s grounding touch and kind words. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, as he rolled of Paz’s lap and lay back down in the bed. Paz followed and pulled him against his body, unwilling to let him go in case the nightmares claimed him again. Din smiled to himself, knowing that if Paz could, he would insert himself into Din’s subconscious to fight of his inner demons and try to protect him from himself. 

“I love you.” Paz told him as he kissed the back of his neck. Din sighed at the contact, knowing there would never be enough words to tell Paz the depths of what he felt for him and just wishing that saying it back would be enough; knowing that of course it would be, Paz accepted anything he gave him without question, without pushing and he knew that Paz deserved so much better than a broken foundling. 

“I love you too.” He confessed, as though he hadn’t already told Paz this. He knew that he didn’t say it anywhere near enough, but this was all he could freely give, and Paz just loved him anyway. He closed his eyes and tried to relax enough to sleep. Paz, if possible, pulled him closer, kissing his shoulder before he let sleep claim him. Din tangled their fingers together and waited for sleep to claim him too. 

_Paz’s fingers grazing his arm sleepily._


	2. Cabur (Guardian, Protector)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m afraid that I’m not waking up; that this isn’t a dream and Mandalore is burning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cubar - guardian, protector  
> Hut'uun - coward  
> Su cuy'gar - Hello, literally, you're still alive
> 
> I think that's all the important Mando'a covered!
> 
> As always I hope you enjoy!

Din shot blindly, not bothering to aim; shooting wildly and with reckless abandon, the complete opposite of what had been taught when in training. But this wasn’t real, couldn’t be real when it was playing out how his nightmares did, blaster fire raining from the sky and people dropping dead all around him. He was alone and he was terrified. 

_ Where was Paz? _

Stormtroopers were marching down the streets, and in his confused state, (because this was a dream, this had to be a dream), he was sure he saw droids mixed in with them; he ducked behind a building before they spotted him, he hoped. It would be suicide to even  _ attempt _ to take out a garrison and he had to find Paz before he made any such attempt at what could be classed as stupid. They needed to get off the planet, needed to save themselves and get out of here. Din took one last look around the corner, watching as the stormtroopers knocked on houses and pulled out families of Mandalorians, executing them in the street and raiding their homes. He felt bile rise to his throat and he fought the urge to vomit, instead turning on heel and running down the street, away from the stormtroopers and the streets running with blood. 

He didn’t even know how he’d lost Paz in the first place; they’d been fighting side by side for days, maybe even weeks, with every new sunrise bleeding into the next, breeding endless violence; Mandalorians fighting Mandalorians, stormtroopers executing Mandalorians and the  _ droids _ . Din had felt his heart stop beating and then kick into overdrive, beating so hard and so fast that he was sure it would break a rib. He had guessed that he had gotten separated from Paz when he felt the fear creep into his body slowly, felt it twist his limbs and carry him somewhere else. Somewhere away from Paz and he cursed himself for not being Mandokar enough, to give in so blindly to this primal fear he had never been able to move past or let go. 

He hated himself. It was nothing new, but the feeling washed over him with a new vengeance, tore apart at his fear and reminded him of how stupid he had been, how weak he had been to give in and run away, like a child. He wasn’t even sure that Paz was still alive, wasn’t sure how long they had been separated and he was going insane. He dreaded turning into another street and finding Paz’s body among them, wasn’t sure what it would do to the rest of his damaged psyche and was absolutely positive he was not ready to find out. He needed to focus. Needed to breathe so that he could think straight, so he could think like Paz and find him. Because Paz would not be dead;  _ could  _ not be dead. 

He saw a stormtrooper turn the corner and he aimed with a newfound precision, watched as the white armour fell to the floor. He had been trained to kill and survive and that’s what he needed to do now, if he had any hope of finding Paz when their world was crashing down around them. He ducked into a building, in case the stormtrooper had been part of a larger landing party, holding a breath as he carefully looked out of the door. Nothing had moved in the street, the body was where it fell and for a moment, it was silent around him. 

Blaster fire resuming from above, raining down upon Mandalore and Din felt utterly hopeless as he watched legions of heavy infantry and Phoenix corps trying their best to subdue the e-web weapon that shot them down like flies. He could feel the fear starting to creep back into his body and forced himself to turn away from the sky, to breathe and  _ fucking focus _ because Paz was still alive and would let himself do something stupid like be killed to try and find him. He tried to comm him, pressing buttons on his vambrace haphazardly, almost blindly. All that came out was static. Of course their comms had been sabotaged, if someone was going to siege Mandalore it was a smart move, the warrior race couldn’t alert each other until it was too late. 

He knew that Mandalore, for all its glory, was not perfect, had committed its fair share of crimes but it had remained neutral in the war that was rampaging through the galaxy. Innocents were dying and for what? They were being slaughtered. If he let himself, he would feel 7 years old again and trapped in a bunker as the world fell down around him, weak and defenceless. 

He was not defenceless anymore. 

Din pushed himself out of the building, stalking down the street, flitting in and out of buildings to avoid the raining blaster fire, to avoid being seen. He would not die here, he resolved himself, would not let his heart die here again. He  _ would _ find Paz and they  _ would _ get off this planet, it was not an option now. His instincts screaming at him to just  _ survive _ . 

Darkness was creeping over them, and he heard stormtroopers retreat back, assuming that the fighting would be done for the night, like it would be on most planets they invaded. This was not an ordinary planet, it was Mandalore and the Mandalorians would fight with all they had or die trying. Din made progress slowly, through the streets of the city he was in. It was unfamiliar, him and Paz never ventured far into the bigger cities, sticking mainly to the confines of the Covert. He wished that they had now, just so he had a better understanding of the landscapes, knew where the best vantage points would be if he had a hope in hell to find Paz. 

He forced his way into another building, noticing the crude barricade he had broken down. “Hello?” He called out into what looked like empty space. Din would be stupid to think that he was possibly alone, the barricade to hastily made and the silence too raw. He figured it wouldn’t be a stormtrooper and droids had no need to seal themselves into safety. 

He pulled out his blaster; thought better than turning on the light, that would draw unnecessary attention from the sky, from any lingering stormtroopers, he refused to believe an army that renowned would retreat all its numbers back to safety for the night. 

“Who’s there?” Rasped a voice, somewhere from the corner of the room. Din switched the HUD in his visor, looking for heat signatures and his vision rested on a slouched body in the corner, holding a blaster lazily in their hand but it was pointed at him with deadly conviction. 

He held his hands up in surrender. “I’m a friend, I’m safe,” he whispered to the grounded Mando before him, stepping forward slowly. “Are you hurt?” 

The body attempted to laugh but it sounded like choking. “Din?” It whispered, almost hopefully, half like a prayer and Din felt his heart stop, because this was too good to be true. 

“Paz?” He replied, not waiting to hear the response as he launched himself into the corner, gripping the body beneath him. “ _Su cuy'gar_ ,” he breathed, could almost feel sobs trying to fall out of his throat. Paz’s strong hand reached up and cupped his helm; Din could feel his weak smile, he could feel tears prick his eyes. Paz was  _ alive _ and the relief felt almost  _ orgasmic _ , which was a bizarre way to describe how he was feeling but was the closest to how he was feeling. _Paz was alive_. 

“You’re alive,” Paz sounded almost surprised, clinking their helms together; Din felt his eyes slide shut and he let out a shaky breath. “I thought I’d lost you.” 

It was Din’s turn to attempt to laugh. “No, you aren’t that lucky.” He joked weakly. Paz’s fingers slipped beneath his helm, tracing the light stubble that had begun to grow, Din gulped. “Where are you hurt?” His fingers ghosted over Paz’s body, scared to touch in case he aggravated any wounds. 

“Took a blaster shot to the gut, armour took most of the hit, just a few sparks got through, it’s just a flesh wound, Din’ika. The thought of having lost you was much worse.” 

Din lifted himself of Paz’s lap, feeling Paz’s fingers drop from his jaw to wrapping around his ankle. “I’m going to look for some bacta, you can’t go out there like this.” His tone was final, didn’t allow Paz to even attempt to argue because if Paz was to die here, then he would too and that was not the  _ plan.  _ “And then, once you’ve rested, we’re getting out of here. We’ll take buir’s old ship and get into hyperspace and re-evaluate there.” His mind had turned cold and calculating, he began to treat this like a bounty so that he could get them to safety. 

“We need to help the Covert,” Paz grumbled as he shifted in his slouch, trying to get comfortable. Din looked down at him, trying to piece together what was coming out of Paz’s mouth when he had already told him what was going to happen. They were leaving this hellscape, it wasn’t a question or suggestion. 

“We don’t even know where they are.” He said simply. He knew that Paz was selfless where he was selfish and felt a flash of guilt, knowing that he would leave them behind in an instant if it meant that Paz would be safe. Paz was his priority, would _always_ be his priority.

“We’ll find them,” Paz argued back softly. Waiting for what he was sure would be a bitter argument. Din took a breath. 

“Okay, we find them, we get them and then we leave.” His voice sounded cold and distant, the modulator not distorting it well. He sounded detached even to himself, knew he had taken the Creed to protect the Covert, but the Creed also applied to protecting Paz. “Once I’ve found you bacta and you’ve rested.” 

Paz remained silent, watching Din intently. Din watched him back, crossed his arms across his chest. “Okay, cyare, that’s what we’ll do.” 

Din nodded and stalked off into the house that they had claimed as their sanctuary. Paz watched him leave, knowing that he would need his space, but wishing that he would stay. The wound was not fatal, he would not die from it and he just needed the warmth that Din offered. 

Din threw things around, searching for bacta before his mind shut down and succumbed to anger. Paz was _hurt_ and Paz was still thinking of others, putting them first, even before himself and it made Din furious. He had known that this was Paz, the last bit of kindness remaining in the world, but he did not have to _like_ it right now. Paz had almost been lost to him once and wanted to risk it all again, to help whoever he could because that was who he was; because Paz was a _cabur_ and he was a _hut’uun_. He knew that Paz would hear him angrily throwing around, breaking things and knew that Paz would let him, thinking that if it helped in the moment, it would be alright in the long run. Din had doubts.

He found some bacta, not much, probably not enough for what Paz needed, but while he wanted to be distant, he did not want to leave him alone, so this would have to do. He walked back into the living quarters silently, willing himself to be calm because he had just found Paz again and didn’t want to fight. Just wanted to wrap himself up in his arms, pretend that this wasn’t happening and that it was just another nightmare.

Paz never bled in his nightmares.

“I found some.” He stated, as he dropped himself an arm’s length from his lover. Paz looked up and him and even under the helmet Din could tell that he wanted to say something; wanted to soothe whatever hurt he had caused Din and make it better. Din shook his head. “It’s okay.” He told him, thinking that he probably said it more for himself. Found himself wishing again that he could be more like Paz, open and upfront instead of jagged and jaded. He reached out for Paz’s waist, feeling for the wound, he knew he found it when Paz grunted in pain.

“We need to take your armour off,” He ordered, as he clumsily fumbled trying to remove it. Paz chuckled and winced in pain but helped him remove the breast plate. Din tugged up his top and looked at the wound; blood had dried around it, but it wasn’t as bad as he had feared. Paz had been right in his assessment, it was a few grazes to the skin, nothing major. He removed his helmet and kissed the tender skin, trying to comfort and apologise and Paz’s hand cupped his neck. He looked up at him and tried to smile.

He applied the bacta quickly and carelessly, trying to ensure that all the grazes were covered in what little they had. Paz winced in pain, as the bacta started to seep into the cuts, mending the skin and muscle and Din gripped his hand, thinking this was the first time that he had _ever_ needed to tend to Paz; it was normally the other way around. He pulled Paz’s top down, regretting that he hadn’t found bandages that would protect the wound further.

  
“What’s going through your head, Din’ika?” Paz murmured. Din looked up at him like a rabbit caught in headlights. It reminded Paz of all those years ago when he had first seen Din and compared him to a dragaax; the expression was identical.

“This is how all my nightmares go,” He whispered. He was always honest with Paz, always tried his best to form words when he didn’t want too because Paz deserved it. He knew that Paz took any form of distance as a personal wound. “And in all my nightmares, this is how you die.”

Paz stroked his face, stroked his hair and Din shut his eyes at the contact, knowing he should be the one comforting Paz; he was the wounded one. Din was just one giant wound. He was murmuring things; soothing things Din could faintly hear but couldn’t really get his mind to understand. He pushed himself into Paz’s chest and wrapped his arms around him.

“I’m afraid that I’m not waking up; that this isn’t a dream and Mandalore is burning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does this count as some fluff? Of course it doesn't. Welcome to the Purge of Mandalore and the Night of 1000 Tears. 
> 
> Tickets are non-refundable.


	3. Aikiyc (Desperate)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t you dare die on me.” Din snarled at him. Don’t you dare leave me remained unspoken. 

War changed people, Din knew, it had changed him once and it was changing him now. Stormtroopers and Mandalorians merged together and reality had become one senseless nightmare; his nightmares had turned real, so now when he closed his eyes to sleep, he wasn’t sure if he dreamt. He woke up screaming more often than not, unable to distinguish nightmare from reality because they were both the same now, weren’t they? 

Paz wasn’t able to touch him when he lost himself now, all the progress they had made together had been destroyed. His body instinctively went to fight the enemy and had forgotten that Paz was safe. Paz pretended it was okay, but Din heard the pain in his voice, the disappointment. 

Din pretended that he didn’t notice. 

The streets of Mandalore were red with blood, littered with dead bodies and buildings fell as quickly as people did. Mandalore wasn’t at war, it was being _massacred_. How many of their people had died? How many had fled to the stars when they realised this was a losing battle? How many stayed because of the delusion that they could win? 

And Din classed both him and Paz as fools because they were still trying to find the damned Covert, to _help_ them because that was the Creed. Paz was determined in his efforts and Din stayed by his side, because Paz was _his_ and he was not losing him too. He would protect Paz, help him on this fool’s errand because that was _his_ Creed. He was loyal to the Covert and he was sure if his every fibre of his being wasn’t screaming to _just leave and get away_ , he would be thinking exactly like Paz because they were their people and they didn’t abandon each other. 

Din wanted to believe that if he were born to Mandalore, he would behave exactly like Paz, always the hero. But Din had been crafted in blaster fire and blood; he would leave them all if Paz would be saved. 

He was selfish and Paz was selfless; the thought was a dagger in the gut. They couldn’t be more opposite if they tried. 

They were sheltering in another abandoned home, the occupants either dead or had managed to escape, Din truly hoped the latter. Paz had removed his helm and was studying him intently. Din still had his helm on, needed the safety it provided because he knew that he looked like shit, knew he had dark circles under his eyes, knew they were bloodshot and just knew that Paz would be able to see everything he wasn’t saying. 

Paz didn’t smile much anymore. Din truly didn’t expect him too, but he missed it all the same. 

He felt guilty for all that he put Paz through, the way that there had been a distance creeping between them because Din couldn’t differentiate reality from dreams and friend from foe. He sighed sadly and Paz tilted his head. 

“What are you thinking about, Din’ika?” He whispered to him. Their voices never got above a whisper when they were alone like this now, once they were outside, they shouted orders at each other, called for each other under a rain of blaster fire. But here they needed the quiet, needed the safety it offered. Needing to forget why their voices were hoarse and raw and pretend even for the night that they were at home, that everything was normal. 

It was not normal; this was war and war changed people. 

“I wish I was more like you.”

Paz looked surprised, his eyes widening in genuine shock. Din took his helm off, feeling like he owed Paz his face and his emotions, everything that he kept hidden and locked away. He didn’t want this wordless distance that had come between them but couldn’t see how he could prevent it, hoping that this would be enough for now. He didn’t smile; neither did Paz. 

“You what?” Paz questioned, his eyebrow was raised but other than that, his face was neutral. Din wished he would smile or frown, be as expressive as he was. 

“Selfless.” He replied because really, it came down to that. He had always thought he was broken edges, harsh words, and violent actions where Paz was calm and collected, with kind words and even kinder truths. Paz would help anyone, couldn’t stop himself, Din had noted, when there were new foundlings, Paz was there to soothe them and feed them; if someone were having trouble, Paz would be there with kind words or advice. Paz had looked after Din from their first meeting, took him under his wing and healed wounds Din didn’t even know he had. Din wasn’t sure he would’ve done the same if the shoe was on the other foot. 

Something in Paz’s eyes softened. A flicker of a smile graced his features and Din felt his heart melt. He wanted Paz to understand that he didn’t mean to do what he did to them, wished that he could be stronger so that Paz didn’t have to struggle with Din alone. Wanted Paz to know that he _knew_ he wasn’t good enough for him, but he wanted to _try_. 

“You are selfless, cyare.” 

Din shook his head and rolled his eyes. “You thought of the Covert. I thought of us.” 

Paz tutted, and Din looked at him and frowned. “You’re still here, trying to find them with me.” 

“For you.” Din corrected because it mattered. Din would not be here if Paz didn’t want this. Din would have dragged them to his buir’s ship and taken them off planet in a millisecond if he’d have had the choice. 

“You’ve put aside _everything_ you are feeling, _everything_ that you want to do because _I_ want to find the Covert and find out if they’re safe or not. I’d say that makes you selfless, Din’ika.” Paz argued back and Din blinked. Paz used his no nonsense tone that left no room for arguing. Din wanted to argue back anyway but couldn’t find the right words. 

Paz was good with words; Din used them like weapons. 

“I know what you’ve been through, I think you forget that sometimes, but I remember it all. I _know_ you and I _understand,_ and I still put you in this position.” Paz continued, like it was a confession because in a way it was. Paz Vizsla was not perfect, and the thought drove Din wild. He realised that Paz was probably just as scared as him, if not more so because he’d never had to go through this before and Din had, and Paz had seen what it had done to him. 

Din closed the distance between them and kissed him roughly, his hands tangling in his hair and pulling. Paz’s hands grabbed his hips as he groaned into the kiss. Din kissed him hungrily, as if this were his last meal and Paz let him. He was unsure how long they kissed for but when he pulled away, they were both panting. Din released his grip from Paz’s hair and muttered a quick apology. Paz almost laughed and kissed him quickly and gently. 

Din rested their foreheads together and closed his eyes. Paz’s hand was resting on his neck and it was almost enough to make Din forget the outside world. He couldn’t find the words to tell Paz just how defeated he felt, how he would follow Paz’s every order without question because he _trusted_ him, how he would follow him to the ends of the galaxy because he couldn’t be Din without Paz. From the moment he had made Paz bleed, all those years ago, he had belonged to Paz; he had let Paz shape and influence who he turned out to be and he had let him. 

He wasn’t sure if Paz knew the power he held over him. Wasn’t sure if he wanted him to know. 

“It’ll be alright, cyare.” Paz tried to soothe. Din remained silent under his touch, not needing to remind Paz that they were not alright, this was _war_ , and they were _losing_. He nodded instead. 

Din pulled them to the floor, pushed his body against Paz’s and tried not to cry. “We should try and sleep.” He replied, knowing that they would have to sleep in shifts, one watching over the other at all times. They could not sleep tangled in each other, the risk outweighing the comfort it would bring. “I’ll take first watch, you rest.” 

Paz yawned and nodded, Din sat himself up and leaned against a wall, pulling Paz’s head into his lap, and started massaging his scalp, trying to help him to relax so he could rest. Paz practically purred as his breathing evened out and Din thanked the Maker that they could still have moments like this, as few and far between as they were now. 

He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep but when he woke up, Paz kissed him greedily, almost desperately and Din recognised the need behind his kisses and touches. Paz had had a nightmare, and this was his way of grounding himself. Din didn’t ask, let Paz touch him and draw sounds out of his throat, let Paz bite and mark his neck as much as he could without the armour coming off. It was stupid that they were getting this caught up in the moment, but Din could never say no to Paz, would do whatever Paz needed without a second thought for himself. 

Paz fucked him hard and selfishly, focusing entirely on his own needs. Din came untouched at the thought of Paz being selfish and taking what he needed without caring, for once, what Din needed. He kissed behind his neck when he was finished and cleaned them both up as best he could. 

Din smiled up at him, and Paz looked bewildered, almost lost. He tried to whisper apologies, but Din kissed him until he was panting, and the words wouldn’t come out. “I love you,” Paz whispered instead, and Din nodded, whispering the sentiment back. 

Hours later, they left their sanctuary of the abandoned house, ready to face the battlefield and continue their mission. Paz went out the door first, keeping pressed back and a blaster held up, ready and waiting. Din followed slowly. 

He didn’t know when it happened, wouldn’t remember the day or the hour or the minute, but he would always _always_ remember what happened next. 

An IG droid rounded the corner and Paz went down soundlessly, the shot managing to hit the spot between his pauldron and his breastplate. Din shot at the droid and threw a few thermal detonators at it for overkill. He didn’t even look at the explosion but dropped down next to Paz screaming at him not to die because this was not how it ended for them. _Not here, not now._

Paz reached up and cupped his helm, where his cheek would be. “I’ll be okay, Din’ika,” he groaned out, trying to move, to get himself up as Din pushed him down. 

“You’ve just been shot in the _fucking shoulder_! Don’t tell me you’re going to be okay when I can _fucking see your blood_ with my own two _fucking_ eyes!” He shouted at him, angrily. He wasn’t sure if he was angry at Paz for getting shot or at the world because Paz Vizsla did not get to die here. 

“Help me up, we’ll find some bacta somewhere and I’ll be fine.” His voice sounded pained, but it was an order on the battlefield and Din was nothing if not obedient. He helped him up silently and carried on slowly, as Paz leaned most of his weight on him. “I’ll be okay, Din’ika.” He repeated, as Din ignored him, looking around for somewhere safe for Paz to rest and hide, while he went to look for bacta. 

“Don’t you dare die on me.” Din snarled at him. _Don’t you dare leave me_ remained unspoken. 

“I’ll be okay, cyare; it’s going to be okay.” Paz promised him as he sat him down. Din stiffened at his words and stayed silent. 

War changed people, Din knew, knew how it had changed him and was watching as it changed Paz. 

War changed people and Paz was a liar. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hard for me to write and I'm not sure if I'm entirely satisfied with it, but I have a rough idea of where this story needs to go to turn Din into The Mandalorian and none of the ways end happily. 
> 
> I also can't shake the idea that while my versions of Din and Paz are very opposite, they think similar things of each other, so where Din thinks he's selfish because he wants to just get out of there with Paz, Paz thinks he's the selfish one because he's keeping Din there with him, knowing that Din is heavily traumatised and struggling. 
> 
> They're the perfect foils for each other in that way. Always wanting to be better for the other person, wanting to be the best they can be for their lover. But this is war and you can see the seeds of doubt already being planted.
> 
> I'm sorry to do this to you all.
> 
> One day I will write fluff, just fluff and nothing more. That day is not today. 
> 
> Today I leave you with heavy angst. <3
> 
> And as always, thank you for reading!!


	4. Chaaj (Distance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din used to enjoy that the others admired Paz, loved him without knowing him but now it annoyed him; he and Paz had fought to be here, and the Covert had just...waited to be saved. He shook his head of the thoughts, no, that wasn’t true, their numbers were smaller, a few vod remained, but it was mainly elders and children and foundlings. Din felt guilted he had ever thought they had waited to be saved. Not like he had when war had first touched him. 
> 
> Din had remembered that war had turned Paz into a liar. He wanted to forgive him for it, because he saw how these helmed people held onto his every word, but Paz was the one truth he had always counted on. And now he lied. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that it's taken me so long to update this, life got in the way and I've been working and ill and I have an assignment due in Tuesday which I have no where near finished but this came first! I hope you all don't mind and enjoy this very rough, barely checked over chapter.

How they were still alive was beyond him, when Din allowed himself to think about it because really, they should be long dead. Paz had been shot and somehow, he was still standing and fighting, and Din’s mind had gone to tatters. They were broken men, hopelessly outnumbered and outgunned and they were still here, fighting because they were just too stubborn to die. 

Din had long stopped thanking the Maker that they were surviving because the things that they had seen made him question whether it was worth it. Maybe death would have been preferable, if it meant that Paz wouldn’t have to harden himself to the realities of war. 

But wishing was for children and whatever Maker was out there was clearly beyond caring. 

By some miracle, the Covert was still standing, the Covert was still _alive_ and even though Din hadn’t been the one that needed this, he felt the relief sink into his bones. He heard the lightness return to Paz’s voice and allowed himself to smile because they had _made it_. He watched as Paz enveloped foundlings in his arms, telling them tales of the brave beroya that he saved his life, each story getting more ridiculous than the last and Din rolled his eyes but something in him felt lighter. 

Paz was in his element here and this was something that he had thought had been lost to war. He thought that this part of Paz had been lost to war. But Paz was the best of all of them, and war would not break him like it had broken Din. 

The various clans that had remained with the Covert seemed to be relieved that they were back, and Paz reassured them that they were going to survive. Promised them that they would get them to safety. They held onto his words and if the adults were unhelmed like the children, Din was certain that he would see adoration in their eyes. Din used to enjoy that the others admired Paz, loved him without knowing him but now it annoyed him; he and Paz had fought to be here, and the Covert had just...waited to be saved. He shook his head of the thoughts, no, that wasn’t true, their numbers were smaller, a few warriors remained, but it was mainly elders and children and foundlings. Din felt guilted he had ever thought they had waited to be saved. Not like he had when war had first touched _him_. 

Din had remembered that war had turned Paz into a liar. He wanted to forgive him for it, because he saw how these helmed people held onto his every word, but Paz was the one truth he had always counted on. And now he _lied._

He didn’t say anything and continued to watch Paz. He didn’t notice the Armourer approach him until it was too late. She gripped his shoulder and kept him in this spot, where he was watching Paz and she was watching him watch Paz. 

“I wasn’t sure if you would come back.” She stated, her voice a cold neutrality, almost as if she would have understood why he didn’t come back. Had expected him to choose that option. He wanted to lie to her, to tell her that his loyalties were to these people, to the clans that had relied on him and his buir for many years to provide. He watched as Paz threw his head back and laughed. But while these last few weeks had turned Paz into a liar, Din decided to be truthful. 

“I wasn’t either.” He said instead. Din felt her nod behind him, but he wasn’t entirely reassured by the gesture. He had never understood the Armourer’s intentions, but he _respected_ her, which was why he had always been honest with her. Had showed her all the parts of him that he wanted to keep hidden, just on the off chance she could fix him like he was broken armour. As if she could make him into something worthy of Paz Vizsla. 

“You would make a worthy match.” 

His breathing caught in this throat. As if Paz could sense something was wrong, he felt Paz’s gaze land on him, under his helm Din was sure he looked concerned and then a foundling jumped on his back and he stumbled, and their gaze was broken. 

“Paz deserves the best.” 

“And you don’t think that’s you.” She made it sound like a question when it wasn’t. They both knew it wasn’t because she had seen and heard all of Din’s thoughts. She knew that he had never felt worth of his place among the Mandalorians and definitely not worthy to be a Vizsla, to be considered Mandokar through and through. 

“No.” Din replied. He decided he didn’t need to elaborate any further, on his failings of Paz, he just wanted to leave, to get them all to safety. To get _Paz_ to safety. “We need to start thinking of getting off planet, we don’t want the troopers reaching here while we are weak and defenceless.” 

Pax had detangled himself from the foundlings and rested his hand on Din’s other shoulder, Din knew if he were to remove the helmet he would be beaming at the Armourer, but beaming did not always mean welcoming and Paz had never liked it when others touched Din, not even the Armourer. He’d never said as much but Din could see it in the tense way, he held his shoulders, how his body was too calm. He felt Paz squeeze his shoulder and the Armourer dropped her drip. Din let out the breath he had been holding. He had forgotten how possessive Paz could be, how _jealous_ he could get, and he let this truth soothe him. He belonged to Paz, even in war, when Paz told lies. 

They plotted into the night about how best to get offside, Din offered his knowledge of old landing bays, which many of the bounty hunters used to avoid busier stations and various states of security. He told them the safest ways to get to them were in the tunnels beneath the Covert and there would be enough ships to get them all to safety as long as they were quick. 

Paz told the elders about the e-web canon that blasted from the sky, about how he had seen well-seasoned warriors fall to the ground before even being aware they had been shot. He told them about the garrisons that marched through the streets and pulled man, woman and child from homes and executed them in the streets. And even though Din had seen it himself, had lived out there with Paz, hearing it somehow made it worse; made it into the reality that Din didn’t want to accept. 

They had formulated a plan to evacuate in the morning, taking as much beskar and supplies as they could carry before fleeing their home world and trying to get to safety. Paz seemed confident they could do it, but Din had lingering doubts, ones he couldn’t shake. He said nothing. 

They bid the elders goodnight and headed back to Din’s quarters, like they had many times in the past but knowing that this would be the last time and that once they left this place in the morning, some part of them would be left behind. This had always been Din’s sanctuary, the only home he had ever really known. Paz sensed his apprehension and threaded their fingers together. Din appreciated it. 

Once they were inside, Din locked the door and removed his helm. Paz followed suit. 

“It’s for the best.” He said, more to himself than Paz, as he dropped his helm carelessly, looking around the untouched room, that hadn’t changed since he had been 7. If he closed his eyes, he could picture Nurink eating at the table, smiling over at him as he cowered in the corner. Could picture Paz throwing broken pieces of porcelain into a bin before cradling Din’s face in his hands and kissing his forehead and whispering soothing words. He felt his heart lurch. This no longer felt like a home, it felt like a _tomb_. 

“You said it yourself, Din’ika, we need to get off this planet.” 

“We do not die here.” Din whispered, as he traced the crack on the wall where he had once thrown his helmet. Remembered as his buir stood in the doorway, watching but remaining silent; remembered Paz clutching the sheets beneath him as Din took his cock in his mouth and sucked, occasionally grounding himself with the crack when he was overstimulated with Paz. Paz’s hand came to rest on the back of his neck, fingers twiddling with the hairs that fell down behind his ears. “You do not get to die here.” 

Paz chuckled and pulled him into an embrace, nibbling at his ears just to hear him moan. Din tried to push him away, but Paz was stronger than him and Paz needed this moment and who was Din to deny him? He relaxed into the hug, felt his arms pulling Paz closer to him and heard himself whispering in his dead language that Paz didn’t understand. He didn’t even know what he was saying anymore. 

“We’re going to do it, cyare, I know we will.” Paz murmured as he kissed his throat, bit at it a little and sucked a mark that would be hidden beneath his armour. Din let himself get caught up in the sensation, felt his hips rut against Paz’s thigh. He didn’t have it in him to disagree, that he had the horrible sinking feeling that things were only going to get worse; not when Paz was finally feeling positive now they had found the Covert. 

He dropped to his knees instead and took Paz’s cock out of his trousers and just took him in his mouth, even though he was only half hard and hadn’t necessarily said that he wanted this. Paz’s hands found his hair anyway as he sucked in a breath and moaned Din’s name sinfully. Din took him deeper, feeling Paz’s cock brush the back of his throat and he tried not to gag, just sucked a little harder, before pulling back and licking and teasing the head. Paz’s head fell back as he moaned louder than before, his hands tugging Din’s hair almost painfully as he whimpered at the loss of Din’s mouth on his cock. 

“Oh shit, Din, please,” Paz begged, as Din ignored him and sucked on his balls instead, his hand stroking Paz’s cock lazily, taking his time to worship the man above him, to try and tell him everything he could never say. Show him that he would go anywhere if Paz demanded it, that he would submit and follow Paz’s every order. He took his cock in his mouth again, and looked up at him, telling Paz with his eyes how much he loved him, that he admired him _more_ than the others because he _knew_ him. Paz looked down at him and groaned as he bucked his hips, pushing his cock further into Din’s mouth, further down his throat. Din felt tears start to gather at his eyes, he wasn’t sure if it was from the lack of oxygen or how much he wanted to be able to spill his soul out for Paz, to have it all on display so that Paz wouldn’t feel like Din was ready to abandon him. 

He pulled back and then got into a steady rhythm, taking Paz deeper when he made just the right noise, finding it painfully arousing when Paz pulled his hair and kept him in place, when he lost control for that spilt second where he fucked Din’s mouth. He found himself digging one hand into Paz’s thigh, to try and hold him back, and to try and bruise him, to mark him and his ownership and his other hand started to play with Paz’s balls, rolling them in his palm, squeezing them gently. 

Paz came with a grunt and no other warning, as Din held his thighs and swallowed everything Paz had in him, sucked his cock again to make sure he was done, enjoying the feeling of Paz trembling beneath him, and for once, it not being in pain, or due to a nightmare but because Din had made him feel _that_ good. He pulled away and let Paz’s cock rest on his cheek as he caught his breath. He felt Paz detach his fingers from his hair and then slide down to join him on the floor. His hands found Din’s face, cupping it and pulling him in to kiss him roughly, tasting himself and not caring. 

When the pulled away, Din was panting and Paz was staring at him, like he was a celestial. “Fuck, Din, that was...” 

“Yes,” Din found himself nodding; couldn’t supply the word that Paz seemed to want to find, as one of his hands still stroked Din’s cheek lightly. Din found himself relaxing to the touch, closing his eyes and leaning into it. 

“Intense.” Paz settled on. Din nodded again weakly. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

“I wanted too.” Din replied, honestly. As open as he could let himself be when words were involved. “Needed too.” 

Paz hummed and kissed him again, gently this time. Savouring the moment as if he knew that time was running out for them, that these moments would soon be few and far between. “Thank you, cyare.” He whispered as he nuzzled against Din’s neck. 

“Let’s go to bed, Paz,” he whispered, as he heard Paz’s breathing start to even out. “We have a long few days ahead of us.” 

Paz made no argument, pulling them both up and quickly and efficiently stopping them of their armour, leaving it in piles in the sitting room. Din rolled his eyes at him as he tucked Paz’s cock back into his underwear but stripped out of his flight suit and started to undo Paz’s. Once they were both in their underwear, he led them to the bed, climbed in and waited for Paz to wrap himself around him. 

Paz stood watching him, bemused, and smiling, his grey eyes twinkling at him. “You’re so fucking _beautiful_ ,” Paz whispered down at him, as he leaned over and kissed his temple, sucked his ear lobe, and then kissed his throat, where he had bitten and marked him earlier. Din rolled on his back and looked at him, an eyebrow raised. He pulled Paz’s wrist until he nearly fell down on top of him and then laughed. 

And he realised that they hadn’t actually laughed like this in weeks, hadn’t let themselves enjoy the time that had together because they could be killed at any time and Din was not going to let Paz die. He realised that they had put this distance between them because they were _scared_ and they were at war and were just _too afraid_ to lose each other. Paz curled up at his side, his fingers tracing down Din’s sternum, across his belly and rested there. 

“I love you, Vizsla.” He stated, although it came out aggressively and not as soft as he wanted. “I _fucking_ love you.” Because Din would always be angry, twisted, harsh words against Paz’s soothing and calm ones. War would not change them that much, he decided. 

He fell into a dreamless sleep, as he came with Paz’s fist around his cock and Paz’s name on his lips. 

It was the last time, he would recall in later years, that he ever had a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking I can end this part of the story within on or 2 more chapters and then we move onto the next part of this epic romance! 
> 
> As always, comment, tell me your thoughts and I hope you like it.  
> Talk to me on tumblr if you want as well! https://hopeless-heartbreak.tumblr.com/


	5. Gedetir (Plead, Beg)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paz kissed him again quickly before they put on their helmets and stepped out as Din took his last look around his home. Din shut his eyes and remembered Nurink, how patient he had been and how he had not deserved a buir like him. He suddenly missed him terribly. Instead of sinking into the feeling of despair he felt creeping into him, he took a breath and then turned and walked away, steeling his resolve that they had to get off the planet before it became their tomb. 
> 
> He had had enough of goodbyes. 

When he woke up, Paz was stroking his skin, tracing every scar, and kissing every bruise. It felt like a goodbye, but Din didn’t say anything, closed his eyes to the touches and kisses and let Paz take what he needed from him. His kisses turned to bites, marking over battle wounds and bruises with his own, his claim on Din since war was taking so much from them. Din opened his eyes when Paz bit and marked his throat, growling at him and Paz looked up at him sheepishly. 

“I knew you were awake.” He whispered against Din’s throat. Din nodded and groaned as Paz bit a mirroring bruise into the other side of his throat. His fingers found their way to the scar on Paz’s face once again, tracing it gently and then he pulled Paz’s face to him and he licked along the scar. Paz shivered beneath him and Din relished in the fact that he could make Paz shiver and tremble and it had nothing to do with the fact that his body was a weapon, and he could kill him. He mumbled on Paz’s ear lobe as Paz’s hands trailed down his hips, tweaking in his nipples as they went. He felt his hips buck. 

They were already naked from the night before and Din had never been more relieved at the lack of clothing and armour as Paz’s fingers reached around his cock and started stroking him lazily, he kissed and tongued at Don’s nipples and Din whimpered. “Fuck, Paz,” he groaned, as he bucked his hips into Paz’s fist. Paz kissed him as sloppily as he was stroking his cock, all tongue and teeth and Din responded in earnest. He tried to tell himself that this wasn’t goodbye, it was good morning, and this was how they always woke up. Paz’s other hand started to fondle his balls and he felt his cock harden more than he thought possible. 

“Mesh’la Din’ika,” Paz breathed out above him; he wasn’t sure when he closed his eyes, but he opened them now and looked into Paz’s grey eyes, that he assumed would be full of lust, closer to black and was surprised to see the adoration he held for Din held there. He swallowed nervously, he knew how Paz felt about him, but it was another to see it written across his face and he wondered if he’d ever looked at Paz that way. He leaned up and kissed the scar again, then the corner of his lips and then kissed him again, just letting himself get lost in Paz’s love, letting himself forget that later on they would be attempting to escape this hellscape of a planet that had once been so beautiful. Din looked at Paz’s beauty instead, his tan skin flush with pink, his beaming smile, the silver of the scar that went from his chin to his ear and his messy braids and he wondered once again how he got so lucky as to have been blessed with Paz. 

“Fuck me,” he pleaded, feeling Paz grind his cock against his thigh and being overwhelmed with the need to have Paz inside him; the need for Paz to fuck him into oblivion. Paz ignored him and pushed his legs apart, kissing down his chest, biting into his hips and licking the tip of his cock, Din felt his hips chase the momentary ghost of Paz’s mouth and came away disappointed. Next Paz sucked on his balls and he swore he nearly saw stars, as if he were in hyperspace and he threw his hand over his mouth to stop the obscene noise he was about to make. Paz stopped and looked up at him and the view of Paz between his legs, mildly bemused and with that _look_ in his eyes was almost enough to make him come. 

“Let me hear you, cyare.” Paz commanded and Din was helpless to resist. He moved his hand away from his mouth and instead threw his forearm across his eyes. Paz lowered his head again and licked his tight muscle, holding his thighs apart as his tongue fucked his hole, making his entrance slick and loose while Din lost his mind above him. 

“F-fuck, shit, _P-Paz_...I don’t...I can’t... _Please_ ,” Din begged and pleaded as Paz carried on tongue fucking him, licking into his hole. His back arched but Paz’s grip on his thighs kept his ass in place and his tongue just fucked into him deeper. “Maker, Paz, _please!_ ” 

He didn’t know what he was begging for but whatever it was he needed it. Paz pushed a finger into his slowly, while still licking around the rim of tight muscle and Din saw white, coming without warning and still needing more, as Paz began to fuck him with his finger and lick the come off his belly. Din felt his hips rock to meet Paz’s thrusts as he added another finger; even though he had already cum, he still needed more, and fingers weren’t enough. 

“You like that?” Paz said, his lips inches away from Din’s. He was teasing, Din knew but didn’t have the energy in him to rise to it. Instead, he opted for honesty. 

“Yes.” He growled, still trying to fuck himself on Paz’s fingers as he added a third. Paz moaned sinfully as he kissed him roughly, biting on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. Din’s fingers grabbed into his shoulders in response, nails digging in as he pushed down deeper into Paz’s fingers. He was desperate, needed this more than he needed breath. “Fuck me, Paz, _please_.” 

“Anything for you, cyar’ika.” Paz whispered in his ear as he gently pulled his fingers out, stroking Din’s half-hard cock before he lined his cock up with Din’s hole and pushed in slowly. Din was sure he saw Paz’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he bottomed out, Din taking him in easily and eagerly. “I love you.” Paz stated as he slowly thrust into him and Din’s legs wrapped around his waist. It sounded like a promise, but Din was beginning to hear goodbye again, and arched his back, guiding Paz’s cock to his prostrate. 

“Harder,” he replied instead, because this moment would not be taken from him, not now. Paz nodded and started to fuck him, his hips slamming into Din’s harshly, his cock hitting that spot on every thrust. Din felt his cock come to full attention again as Paz whispered sweet nothings in his ear and Din barked back commands of “harder” and “faster” and “fucking _fuck me Paz_ ”. He could feel Paz growing closer to his release, could feel Paz’s desperation as he grabbed Din’s hips and pulled his body to him in time with his thrusts. Din started to stroke himself in time with Paz’s rough thrusts, moaning out Paz’s name. 

“Come for me, Din,” Paz moaned out breathlessly above him. Din looked up and saw Paz watching him, watching the way their bodies worked together and came again, throwing his head back in pure ecstasy. Paz thrust into him once more and came himself. 

“I mean it, I love you. Don’t forget.” Paz whispered as he collapsed on top of him. Din stroked his face absently, feeling well and truly blissed out. He felt himself nod weakly. 

“I love you too. Don’t _you_ forget.” Din whispered back, kissing Paz’s temple. Paz pulled him into an embrace, rested their foreheads together as he had done when they were young, his eyes were closed, and he sighed. 

“I know you do.” 

“We should shower, we need to start moving.” Din stated quietly, already feeling Paz loosen his hold on him and start to pull away. Paz nodded as he got out of bed, his expression suddenly closed off and unreadable and Din wondered if he had said the wrong thing, brought Paz back to the reality that they weren’t safe and they had a whole Covert to save. They didn’t have time did these frivolities; they didn’t have time to say goodbye. 

They showered quickly and donned their armour in record time. Paz kissed him again quickly before they put on their helmets and stepped out as Din took his last look around his home. Din shut his eyes and remembered Nurink, how patient he had been and how he had not deserved a buir like him. He suddenly missed him terribly. Instead of sinking into the feeling of despair he felt creeping into him, he took a breath and then turned and walked away, steeling his resolve that they had to get off the planet before it became their tomb. 

He had had enough of goodbyes. 

Paz was waiting for him, nodded at him but said nothing and then they walked to the Armourer’s forge together silently. The rest of the Covert were waiting for them, their anxiety was evident, and they could do nothing but give them false promises that it would be okay, they would get to safety and no one would get hurt. 

Din listened to Paz as he gave orders and directions, splitting the remaining Mandalorians into smaller factions, so that they would be less noticeable to anyone that might be looking. The people seemed to be less anxious now that they had orders, had a sense of purpose to work for and Din felt a slight sense of relief. He watched as Paz worked, calming down younglings, foundlings, and elders alike; he was never sure if Paz knew the effect his words had on people, but he had seen it in action many times and always wondered if Paz was somehow magic. He watched as looks of fear and terror were replaced with determination and resolve and felt pride surge in his chest. 

Paz came over to him after some time and ordered him to lead the group with the Armourer and the foundlings to the bay, while he and a few other warriors guarded the rear, and Din felt bile rise to his chest. Paz hadn’t told him about this in any of their plans because he knew Din would argue against it, argue against them being separated and Paz couldn’t bring himself to argue on what could be their last night together. He felt himself get angry, his fingers unconsciously twitching above his knife and he held Paz’s gaze. 

“So, it _was_ a goodbye.” He hissed at him and he saw Paz’s shoulders drop slightly, as if he had been caught out in a lie. And Din wanted to laugh then because he had been telling himself that Paz never lied, and it was a truth he had held onto. He didn’t want to wait to hear and excuse and turned to walk away when Paz grabbed his wrist and stopped him. Din counted to five in his head and let out a breath, to stop himself from turning around and holding his knife as Paz’s throat. 

“We can do this,” Paz said to him gently, his grip tightening on Din’s wrist, squeezing where he could feel his pulse. “We can make it. This morning...it doesn’t...it’s not...” His voice sounded small and far away, almost broken. Din wanted to feel sorry for him, wanted to not feel as angry as he did but he pulled his wrist out of Paz’s grip. He slowly turned to look at Paz, trying to calm himself before he could say something he would possibly regret. 

“If anything happens to you, I’ll _never_ forgive you.” He snapped. Paz’s shoulders slumped more, and Din knew that if it was anyone else giving this order, he’d understand. But it was Paz choosing to separate them and it hurt more than what he thought it would, and he selfishly wanted Paz to feel some of that hurt, bear some of the weight of it. 

“I know, Din’ika,” he replied sadly, hesitating to reach out to him again. Din pressed their foreheads together quickly, more roughly than lovingly but he was resentful of this plan. Paz was his and if they were going down, it was together. Din was always selfish where Paz was selfless; it was something that he had once hated but now thought was the more rational option. At least in his selfishness, they were together; they would live or die together. _Fuck selflessness_ he sneered.

“Don’t die.” He demanded and then turned and walked away from Paz, following his order even though his body was screaming at him to stay with Paz. The Armourer glanced up at him and he thought to himself if she tried to comfort him right now, he might actually snap and that was not what they needed right now. Instead, she nodded and gathered up what supplies she could carry and encouraged the foundlings to do the same. Din strapped ammo for his pulse rifle around his calf and torso, strapping the rifle to his back and checking the blaster in his holster. He glanced back to where he had left Paz, but he was no longer there and prayed that that would not be the last time they saw each other, that those would not be the last words they had spoken.

He hoped that his prayers would be answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, rushed and roughly checked over but I hope you enjoy (as much as you can because I'm awful and I can't write nice things without angst coming in the way). 
> 
> Please tell me you still like me, I'm desperate haha!


	6. Kyr'am (Death)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paz was gone, and so was the Din that belonged to him.   
> What was left was a broken shell, a hollow imitation of what Paz had moulded and made. But it was Din all the same. It was who Din would always would have been if he had never had Paz to begin with.   
> He didn’t need a heart anyway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as always, this is relatively (absolutely) unedited but I needed to get this fic out of me before I could move on to the next stage! 
> 
> There will be fluff coming in the next chapters of Draagax but it will all be written while they're younger than in this fic!

He was...lost. Empty. Devoid. 

Paz was...gone. And so were any lingering remains of his heart and sanity. 

Paz, the great bulk of a man, all muscle and strength and so much _heart_ , had been left behind when Mandalore had fallen. He had fell with his planet and Din had left his heart with him; had flown into the stars with the Armourer and some of the foundlings as the others had fled separately. 

His breathe had been ripped from his lungs as he tried to scramble off the ship and to Paz, but Paz had _ordered_ him, in what had been his final breathes, _to stay and protect the Covert_ and Din had stupidly listened. He had ignored all his other instincts, had ignored his body needing to go to Paz and drag him along because his mind responded better to Paz’s words than his own demands. He had given up control of the _Razor Crest_ to the Armourer because even he couldn’t lie that he was in a fit state to pilot because he had finally lost _everything._ And it was overwhelming and disorientating because he longed to be in Paz’s arms, to be held and comforted, put back together because he could feel everything in him crumbling and breaking. 

He had isolated himself to his cabin, left the rest of the ship for the few foundlings and the Armourer because he was in no mind to host company, or to promise a future to foundlings when he didn’t believe it himself. That had always been Paz’s job, to reassure and promise; Din was all for harsh truths spoken with harsher words and the Armourer would not want that around scared and frightened children. She understood the need for his isolation, his need to space in the small ship but that didn’t mean that she approved of it and said as much when she saw him emerge to use the fresher. He shrugged at her, wishing that he could tell her something, _anything_ to make this situation better but his words seemed to have died when Paz did. She would knock on his door when meals were ready, but he never joined them, in fact, in his loneliness, he found himself resenting the Armourer and the Covert in a way he had never before because, if he had been as selfish as he had believed, Paz would be alive, would be wrapped around him in the bed and _breathing_. Instead, he was burning on Mandalore. Alone. 

He laughed bitterly. He was alone now too. 

He thought absently that Paz wouldn’t want to see him like this, not again. Not after everything they had been through, and how much progress they had made before the war, but he couldn’t help it. He had no appetite, had no will to even try and pretend, to keep up the pretence that he was coping because the truth that he couldn’t even deny, was that he was _not_ coping. His heart and been ripped out of his chest and left behind on Mandalore; left in the company of Paz: dead.

Din felt like he should want to cry, felt like he should want to sob and mourn but nothing would come out, he was empty, devoid of everything. Numb to the cruelty of an impartial universe. He pushed himself out of his bunk and found himself climbing into the cockpit, avoiding stepping on the bodies of sleeping children. He had never been used to company on his ship, but this was something that was completely foreign to him; he still resented them, even though it wasn’t their fault that they had been rescued, wasn’t their fault that Din listened to Paz and left him there to rot. But he hated them all the same and felt guilty because Paz had loved them, so he should too. 

The Armourer was in the pilot’s chair, so he resigned himself to sit in the co-pilots seat. She turned to look at him, her body language betraying nothing, he looked back at her, daring her to open him up, cut her fingers on his broken edges. She sighed lightly, holding her hands up in surrender, like Paz had done so many times before her and he felt a pang of pain in his chest. He heard himself whimper and thought himself pathetic to let it escape from his lips. A hand reached out and rested on his thigh, squeezing lightly, he growled and tried to shake it off, but she ignored him and squeezed again. 

“This isn’t a fight you want to have right now, Djarin.” She warned him, her modulated voice was calm, and her grip was firm. Underneath his helm he scowled at her, wanting her to feel the change in him, feel his hatred for them. “You have lost much.” 

He growled again because there was so much that he wanted to say in response to her, wanted to scream at her how stupid she was because of course he had lost _much,_ he had lost _absolutely everything_ starting with his home and ending with his will to live. Without Paz to keep him sane, there was no point. Without Paz there was only rage and anger. Din wanted to fight with her, wanted to argue because it would mean that he felt something, could mean that she could persuade him to feel something, but he found once again, that he simply couldn’t physically say anything. He grabbed her wrist and removed her touch from his body, he didn’t know why he came up here, but this was not what he wanted. 

“He died a proper death; it is all we can hope for in the end.” Her words were meant to be comforting, he knew. A warrior’s death was all most Mandalorian’s hoped for and Paz was a solider, he had grown up with the notion; Din too had come to wish for it, when him and Paz had been alone and outnumbered. But watching Paz get blasted and crumple to the floor, he did not see anything glorious in his death. He couldn’t bring himself to celebrate Paz’s life the way it should be, not when he had been ripped from life too suddenly, not when his last words to him had been hard and cold and angry, and not loving as they should have been. Paz had died knowing that Din was angry at him, had died knowing that Din had promised to never forgive him if anything happened. He choked back what could have been a sob. 

“We’re heading to Navarro,” The Armourer stated quietly. “We can settle there; rebuild ourselves.” 

He didn’t know what she expected him to say, if she expected him to say anything at all because the decision had already been made and either way, he had no opinions in where they relocated, it didn’t matter to him. She carried on talking through plans, how some of their people had already landed there, had located a safe hold, and had started leaving encrypted coded messages in case any other Mandalorian’s survived the purge, so they could make their way to their own kind, to safety. After all, the Mandalorian race had always believed in safety in numbers, even when they fell to the ground in defeat. There was a bitter irony in there somewhere, Din was sure, if he allowed himself to dwell on it, but his thoughts resided with memories of Paz. 

He stood and turned away from his matriarch, starting down the ladder back to his bunk, fed up with the company he had sought out, for the distraction that never actually came. “It was good to see you.” The Armourer called out after him. It made him angrier than he already was. When he was off the ladder, he punched the wall, breaking a few fingers in his hand and waking up the closest foundling to him, her wide eyes looking up at him reproachfully. He pushed his back into the wall he had just punched, pushed himself away from the small girl looking up at him from the ground, her grey eyes unblinking. 

“I’m scared too,” she whispered to him. Din wanted to shout at her that he wasn’t _scared_ , he was angry and lost, he had lost his beloved and was alone. He wasn’t scared. But then he realised, yes, he was scared, downright terrified that for the first time in his life, he had to face tomorrow alone, he had to live with himself like this forever and it sent a chill of fear down his spine. He had always had someone to draw himself out of these thoughts, had Paz to whisper him promises when the red cloud became to much and now...now he had to just _cope_ on his own. He licked his lips and swallowed, her grey eyes resting on him and looking so much like Paz’s. He felt another flicker of pain in his chest where his heart should be. 

“It’s going to be okay, somehow,” he whispered back, unsure if he was trying to reassure the girl or himself. She smiled up at him, her face lighting up as if he had just promised her the world and more, when at best he hadn’t even promised a better tomorrow. He stepped away from her and threw himself in his bunk and sealing the door before he let himself break down. 

He mourned for himself, for Paz and for Mandalore; wishing one last time he could feel Paz’s lips on his neck and his arms wrapped around him. Wished he could hear Paz promise him tomorrow would be better even if it weren’t. Wished that he could stop this hateful feeling that had settled where love had once lived. 

Paz was gone, and so was the Din that belonged to him. 

What was left was a broken shell, a hollow imitation of what Paz had moulded and made. But it was Din all the same. It was who Din would always would have been if he had never had Paz to begin with. 

He didn’t need a heart anyway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And erm....yeah....that's it. That's the end. Because who needs a happy ending??? I don't (except I do and I have so much more planned for this series).
> 
> As always, I hope that you enjoyed the ride this fic took you on, to get to where we are in the current time line of the show (almost, I have one more fic planned before the actual canon time-line).
> 
> Comment and tell me that I'm an alright writer, I need validation for writing this much angst!

**Author's Note:**

> We're at the beginning of the end my friends. 
> 
> Leave me nice comments, I need smiles when I torture us all like this.


End file.
